


Seductions

by Kaamos (reckless_love)



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Kisses, Love, M/M, Seduction, Vignette, angbang, practice, short fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-27 07:37:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13243563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reckless_love/pseuds/Kaamos
Summary: Two men, two ways of seduce each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was having doubts about posting this little idea I got but...well, why not. Let's try.  
> I'm trying with two vignettes (how hard they are to write!), writing only about feelings, sensations and emotions. Only two chapters based on contrasts: two men, two ways of seduce each other.  
> The following one is the first vignette, focused on Melkor's tempting manner, cold air, corporeal/sensual and whispered words.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melkor, cold, corporeal/sensual, whispered words.

The view of Mairon there at lights out doesn't shock him that much, for he knew that he couldn´t resist the beauty of the first snow of the year falling outside the balcony that brings from the apartment to the city. For that occasion, Melkor bought one bottle of expensive red wine - one of their favourite - before coming back home from work.

He carefully opens the bottle, pours the wine in one elegant and appropriate wine glass, to let it breathe a very bit. Then, he goes over to the balcony doors and steps outside; placing the glass on the railing and without a word, Melkor embraces his hot body from behind, circling his waist and resting his chin on the top of his right shoulder. His breath tickles Mairon’s neck and dark long hair slides forward.

Mairon puffs on the cigarette he’s smoking, the feeble crackle softly breaks the cocooned silence, the reddish glow, even if dim, seems to surround them in a warm intimacy inside the dark of the night; and in few moments, he breathes the dense smoke out of his lungs. The cigarette is exactly like the expensive wine: not a habit, not a necessity, not a fault but a pure and easy extravagance for special moments.

Melkor kisses his right temple, light blonde thin hair tickling the tip of his nose, and Mairon closes his eyes feeling the voluptuousness of those soft lips on his skin. When the lips move away, he brings the cigarette up to him.

Melkor takes a long, slow drag in a seductive manner, only an excuse to brush his lips against Mairon's fingertips, deeper and longer than the necessary, just to kiss slightly them.

Mairon smiles softly as he puts the cigarette out – barely half smoked – in the little improvised ashtray before accepting the glass of red wine Melkor is handing him. He takes a sip closing his eyes; the fresh, fruity, floral aromas feel like a tame summer morning in the first winter night: combined with the light sparkling sensation on the tongue it’s the perfect match for that moment: strawberry, raspberry, rose, frothy cherry. With a deep breath he fills his body with cold air and inebriating spirit.

Feeling his man's body relaxing in their clasp, Melkor tightens the embrace. The lips travel again to reach the temple, and this time they take their time to taste his skin while the nose detects the scent of amber and spices from his hair.  
Narcotizing, Mairon is narcotizing.

Depriving him of the panorama of the ending day, he turns Mairon’s body around taking the glass from his hand: a game, it’s just a game but he can’t help to seduce him, to conquer his man _every night of their life together_. Sensual and sweet this time he wants to be, like the alcoholic taste they have on their tongues. The first kiss is light and soft, just a gentle peck on his wine-flavoured lips, his hot mouth distracts the blonde man from what his hands are doing: carefully they slide around his waist to envelop the lower part of the back, to gently push him in his arms.

And Mairon feels like he’s diving into him when the second touch comes, the tongue tracing the outline of the thin lips.  Then, a break; a little break to not rush their alchemy, a good moment to adore him, whispering “ _Beautiful_ ” while his eyes wanders along his face, hungrily but lovingly, admiring the perfect glowing pale skin of his beloved man. Mairon tilts his head on the left side, not even the darkness of that late evening is able to hide the brightness of his luminous eyes, and he circles Melkor’s neck with both the arms: the heat of his voice is infatuation, promise, and passion.

With the third kiss Mairon senses the whole attraction his man's feeling, like an electric shock while Melkor runs the tongue across his lower lip and then, he draws back to end the kiss, suddenly sucking it out with a nice noise. He releases it, only to nibble on it again and again and again. One hand rubs the back, his sensual back that Melkor loves to cuddle with tenderness before and after making love, while the other hand’s firmly pressed on his sensuous waist, pulling him towards him tightly.

“ _Gorgeous_ ”, Melkor praises him, his fingers slowly caressing tracing the ear and the jaw line.

With the fourth kiss, the tongue finally explores his mouth, not gently but demandingly, playing around, circling, running, exploring and savouring with desire, without saving a centimetre of his mouth. Then, he slides his hands into Mairon’s hair deepening the embrace, the fingers run through the hair to reach the scalp, using his invasive touch to seal him in that warm and longing clasp and his teeth sink into his bottom lip, tugging it slightly to the side with his shameless passion.

Mairon’s mind has no room for wondering. There’s only Melkor’s warm, solid body, pressed against his; his soft, moist lips, full of tenderness and passion; his gentle but strong hands, caressing and teasing. He closes his eyes feeling his knees going weak while Melkor gently sucks on his tongue, when it’s in his mouth, sucking it in, forcing some centimetre into his, giving no break to him. The left hand travels restless to hold his right hand in his, to weave together their fingers, a gesture that Mairon adores.

Melkor breaks the kiss, breathing heavily, his heart ponding in the chest, one step to explode: he would die for him, he really would die in pleasure with him. “ _Perfect_ ”, he glorifies the beauty in his arms, whispering on his mouth, and to a little moan escaping from Mairon’s lips follows a quiver that shakes his body from head to feet.

“ _Yours_ ”, Mairon whispers eventually, standing on his tiptoes, claiming his lips, his bliss, his love.

Flickering the tip of his tongue against the tip of his love’s, Melkor guides him inside the apartment while the hot air of their bedroom engulfs them, anticipating the erotic massacre they’re going to make of their bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mairon, warmth & heat, intangible, music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then Mairon, calling his Melkor.

After placing the empty cup of coffee on the low table, Mairon decides to get out of the sofa. His bare feet on the warm wooden floor walk slowly toward the middle of the living room, as if he approaches a sacred shrine, his footsteps soft and light reaching the piano.  
Lifting the bench to pull it from beneath the keyboard, his eyes shine with anticipation, for they have a special connection with that instrument, the natural continuation of theirs hands, by which they can reach places forbidden to most of the people.

Mairon’s right hand lifts and his fingers touch the keys, one at a time. Then he stops, placing his hands back in his lap and just glaring at the precious keyboard before him, as offering an apology for taking liberties with his master’s piano: the aural and tactile equivalent of _holiness_.

Melkor taught him that the moment of first contact is significant, when he approaches the piano and sits down, settling himself on the shiny surface aimed. From those first notes he knows right away what he’s searching for, what he needs from it.  
In that moment, Mairon’s in need of Melkor.

He tries out a simple melody; Melkor’s piano has a singing, translucent sound, rich, varied, with a long decay, and every note is rounded and resonant. It looks elegant and serious, just like Melkor does; it feels warm and comfortable, like Melkor’s arms; and it smells like wood oils, like Melkor’s dark, long hair.

More confident with the notes floating in his mind, Mairon gently caresses the ivory keys, not thinking about one precise motif but only guided by the music itself, his left hand lifts to touch the lower octaves and he adds harmony to the mix, his right hand moving more rapidly now, his fingers agile as they skim over the keyboard. And his head’s tilted to the left side as if he hears a whole orchestra providing accompaniment to the simple tune he plays.

Faintly, behind many closed doors in the basement, he hears his piano being played in the distance. A mechanical contraption made of metal wire, wood and leather sounds like the human voice: Mairon’s singing a melody through the piano’s tones.  
Melkor closes his eyes, catching his unique technique, his body interacting with the instrument, running his fingers lightly over the keys in legato play where notes are smooth and connected but hinted with a deep sadness, or pounding harshly with a hint of frenzy, trying to give voice to all his interior feelings and finding out how to bring it out while playing. Like so he understands that _Mairon’s calling him_.  
Melkor stands, hopping to have enough time to join the music and add a sliver of himself in it. He climbs stairs with hurried steps but, once he gets in the room, stops to look at him; his beautiful Mairon dropping his wrists as he hits the notes with his head down, as fingers glide over the keys: he even seems to dance with his soul, sway along with the music and his light blonde hair taking part in with their fluctuations.

Mairon’s so focused that he notices Melkor only when he sits right beside him and starts playing. The first part of the tune is acclimatisation; Melkor’s mind and ears need to get used to the way the sound carries towards Mairon, his fingers need time to adjust to his specific longing. Thus, Melkor forgets his left hand, concentrating only on the harmonic structure of Mairon’s soul.

At first their music is uniform in colour, a touch neither too heavy nor too light, allowing full control over the sound. There are no overly bright or open rooms in the music and all of these unite into a whole larger than the sum of its parts; then and only then, Melkor adds a melody, an improvisation, and plays chords on his left hand while letting the right hand follow Mairon’s counter melody.

The splendour of it invite them to explore what they’re performing. Mairon feels more confident with the notes for each hand are playing, Melkor’s integrating his sensation with his, until everything evolves in _closeness_ while they’re gently moving hands-together.

And Melkor starts seeing Mairon everywhere in his mind, feeling a warmth, a fullness and a unique soul-exposing connection: the first time they kissed, the first time they fought, the last time they made love; for Mairon has always been an overflowing presence inside of him, since the moment _they touched_ for the first time.

And just then, as if he could feel him, Mairon opens his eyes and turns his head in Melkor’s direction and, when their eyes meet, Melkor feels an explosion of creativity: together, the two of them, push more than just boundaries.

There’s no rule against getting a little uncontrolled and Melkor finally enters the melody fully, flooding into Mairon’s very soul, playing with the tempo, inverting the dynamics and utilise swells and different finger intensities. Mairon lightly moans and the melody turns into ecstasy while they play around each other, hands touching and intertwining, sometimes fingers colliding while tapping the same key, so connected they are, so emotionally joined. Their bodies just follow their hands, close in contact, brushing and pressing slowly but firmly towards one another, then releasing a little and repeating in response to the speed of the music, heightening pleasure levels.

That’s it, playing with Melkor, never knowing what emotions the music may stimulate and Mairon would only bury his head in his neck and start kissing, sucking and nibbling him there softly, distracting him in the sweetest way, but the music’s still going on, and he simply places his head against his arm.  
It’s just that enveloping and tender gesture that rouses a tingle-inducing harmonic moment, making Melkor feel a skin-orgasm while they reach the tension, the culmination in music.

The moment feels right, feels perfect, bodies and minds joined, soft and stiff at once; Mairon presses his lips gently into Melkor’s cheek and begins by kissing slowly over the surrounding skin, adding a little more pressure and speeding things slightly while reaching his lips; while kissing, one hand moves to pull Melkor closer, yearning for a more intimate contact with him, as his love responds arousingly.

Mairon pulls Melkor’s hair at the roots to gently tilt his head back, increasing erotically his pleasure. He slowly inserts the tip of the tongue into Melkor’s mouth, then pulls back slightly, mirroring an intercourse. A regular rhythm, anticipation increasing the level of desire and they find themselves on the floor at the bottom of the piano. Mairon kisses him all over and Melkor returns his passion amplified.

The music’s apparently over, but it’s proceeding in their minds, using their bodies like instruments, for their love making is just begun, since soul has many ways to make love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ♥!


End file.
